A Thing I Have Waited For, Literally, All My Life.

So this happened yesterday:

If you’ll recall, it took me decades to write a novel good enough to sell.  I literally wrote seven terrible novels before finally uncorking this good one.  And so to have it in my hands, was…
Like touching a dream.

So this box sits on the counter, and Gini, who is usually Not A Fan of clutter, has said not a word about it, as she is as proud as I am.  Eventually it’ll go in a closet somewhere.  I have books to sign (and I plan to number the books I sign, a little personalized hashtag, just to see how many I do), and I know Gini gets my first signed book, and then I gotta figure out who gets the rest.
And yes, I know I’m being slightly ridiculous about all this, but it’s my first novel.  My absurdity extends to feeling a strange kinship with Brenda K, who so kindly packed these books for me. But I only get this opportunity once, so I’ll run wild through the fields of the Lord and I promise you when The Flux comes out in October, I’ll be more subdued.
Probably.
Then there’s the dedication page:

Those of you new here probably know about Rebecca, my goddaughter.  But it occurs to me that most of you don’t know my Uncle Tommy, who passed on in 2005.  Which is a shame.  He was my best friend and savior when I was a troubled teen.  He had a basement full of books he let me read.  He was a frail hemophiliac who taught me how to be fearless.  He gave me Stephen King, and Dune, and the Belgariad, and Stephen R. Donaldson, and all the worlds within Flex would never exist if it were not for him.
I know Gini gets signed book #1.  But I think Uncle Tommy gets signed book #2.  I’ll keep it for him. On my bookshelf.
I really think he’d be proud of me.